St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1887-05-14

rowed small sum from her has he
passed.
Six months afterwards I saw a letter
in newspaper warning ministers
against the arts of this same youth, and
narrating this same tale He was look
ing for his fugitive aunt in the churches
of the midland counties, and probably
is stilLcontinuing the profitable pursuit.
The poor widow kept her faith i'm him
till this letter appeared; indeed. SO
effectively had he played his part, that
even then she seemed more inclined to
believe in him than in the writer of that
communication.
One June morning about eleven
o'clock was told there was q gentle
man in the drawing-room to see me. l
found there man of about forty years,
rather under the average height. Of
fresh complexion, with red whiskers,
neatly trimmed. and respectfully
dressed. He introduced himself in the
most polite manner; was very sorry to
trouble me; had walked up from Step
ney. about five miles; had left his poor
wife there i'll in bed. and without crust
Of bread for breakfast. Their priva-
tions were all the harder to bear from
their former affluence. He had lived
on his own little estate in the country
in perfect comfort, till he became
security for a friend. who proved
dcfaultcr, and he lost his all. He came
to London to find situation. bringing
his wife with him. He could not. rs he
had hoped. get into a contingencies.
having no experience of business. and
was at last glad to take place in Clap
ton as gardener. He had been ac-
custOmed to work little in his own
garden. but the continuous labor soon
broke him down. He had just recovered
from an illness in which they had parted
with every thing that could be pawncd;
and, having often been comforted by
my preaching when he was in Clapton.
he thought Of me very strangely that
morning, in fact he could not get the
thought of me out of his mind, and
determined to call upon me and submit
his case to me for advice. He had been
on the way from half-past seven till
eleven. being weak and lame. and was
now in dreadful anxiety about his poor
starving wife. He showed me his last
pawn-ticket: One pair boots, six
shillings.'
asked about their friends. He had
been ashamed to let them know of their
destitute condition: but at last. driven
by starvation. he had written his wife's
mother: and here he took out a packet
Of letters and selected from it one which
seemed the most recent. The envelope
bore the postmarks all correctly enough.
and the contents fully corroborated his
story. 1t was the reply Of his mother
in-law. written to her daughter, his
poor wife. Father was away arrang-
ing for farm for dear George. who
was preparing to get married: there
was no money in the house till he re-
turned, which would he in two days;
then few pounds would be sent to
bring them home. and there they would
remain till some suitable situation could
be got. etc. Now, if he could in any
way borrow few shillings for two
or three days. all would be well. and
he would never forget the Kindness;
indeed, he would bring his wife up her
self, to thank me. when the money
came. That letter with all the post
stamps on il, together with the mans
appearance and manner and tears,
satisfied me. gave him few shill-
ings. and have never seen him since.
Six weeks afterwards. read letter in
daily paper. dated Rochester. describ-
ing this same gentleman, and giving
the same story rs the means by which
he was going about there. imposing
upon the kind-hearted TO whom he
could get access. He is probably still
performing his little comedy, and car
rying off i'm triumph the donations Of
sympathizing listeners.
determined thereafter never to give
until l had made inquiry; but one fellow
proved too clever for me even then. He
came one night about half-past eight
a big. broad-shouldered, round-headed,
pugilistic-looking man. whose whole
appearance testified against him. He
had Just came from the prison at Cos
port, where he had served two years as
deserter. When taken. he had been
for some months living in my district,
and working at his old trade as brick
layer. The chaplain had shown him
the folly Of his wicked life. and advised
him, as he had expressed his determina-
ton to turn over a new leaf, to seek
help from the nearest minister. He had
slept in shed last night, but had that
day got promise Of a job to begin to-
morrow morning at half-past six. But
every bricklayer must have a trowel.
line, ETC.; and he had no tools, nor
money to get them. II l would lend
him as much. he would be at my house
on Saturday at half-past two. as soon
as he got his pay. and return it, and
hoped to attend my church and 60 on
in the right way as long As he lived.
He showed me the d branded upon his
side; he offered to leave his coat. worth
three times the money, and took it of
as he said it. replied that it was quite
unnecessary; I had friend. builder.
who in the circumstances would lend
him the tools.
But ah, that would not do, as no ono
must know his story: men would not